thecrackshiplollipop:

Kara Danvers’s first Chanukah

They’re are on laundry duty while Eliza and Jeremiah clean the kitchen. Kara’s first proper Earth holiday, Thanksgiving, was as weird as all her other Earth-firsts. But, at least this one came with a great menu. Alex is measuring out the detergent while Kara dumps all of the table linens into the washer. She triple checks for anything red, remembering the look on Eliza’s face when she discovered one of Kara’s red socks had made it’s way into a load of whites.

“What’s the next holiday?”

“Chanukah,” Alex says absently, dumping the cap of detergent into the washer.

“Is that just for America, like Thanksgiving?”

“No,” Alex says, replacing the detergent lid and wiping her hands on the front of her jeans. “It’s a Jewish one. We light candles, play games, eat fried food, and get lame presents.” 

“That sounds like a holiday we had on Krypton. Except for the fried food and presents. But any holiday where you eat french fries and mozzarella sticks sounds great.” Kara grins.

“Well, not those kinds of fried foods,” Alex motions for Kara to close the washer lid and, once she does, pushes in the dial on the machine so it starts.

“Then what kind?”

“Well, like. Latkes, and-”

“What’s a latke?” 

“A potato pancake,” Alex sighs, trying not to get frustrated.

“Ohhh,” Kara nods, not sure if the image in her mind is right.

“Like a hashbrown from McDonalds, but not really,” Alex frowns and Kara’s eyes widen with delight. “There’s also sufganiyot. Not everyone has them, but our congregation does ‘cause the rabbi’s wife is Israeli.”

“And what are those?” Kara’s eyes are huge and Alex has to hold in a laugh. Kara is hands down the hungriest person alive.

“Israeli doughnuts,” she grins, because Kara’s eyes are practically sparkling.

“Oh, I love doughnuts.”

Before their first day back at school, Alex takes Kara aside and explains Christmas. It sounds like a wonderful holiday, too, and when Kara asks when they’ll get a tree, Alex cringes. 

“We won’t.”

“But-”

“We’re Jewish. We don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Oh. Like Easter?”

“Right,” Alex nods, hands stuffed in her pockets. “But, well. Everyone else celebrates it. So you’ll experience it.”

“Well that’s good,” Kara nods, “do they eat fried food, too?”

“I don’t think so. They eat ham?”

“Oh,” Kara frowns, tapping her chin, “clearly Jewish people have the better holiday.”

“Make sure you tell the kids at school that when they tease you for not celebrating,” Alex chuckles, patting Kara on the back.

The first night there’s a party at the synagogue. Everyone’s bringing their personal latke recipe, there’s a band and story time and a bunch of fun crafts. Kara’s been excited all week. The kids from Kara’s Hebrew school are far too cool and plan on ditching once the candles are lit, but Eliza has made Alex promise to stay with Kara for the whole evening.

Alex is bitter and grumpy, but perks up when Eliza hands her a big box.

“Pick one for each of us.”

“I want the Lego one,” Jeremiah calls from upstairs and Kara’s brows shoot up.

“What’s in there?”

“The chanukiyot. Menorahs,” Alex yanks the lid off of the box and Kara peers over her shoulder at the jumble of objects. “We’ve got a lot.”

“Oh, we light those each night!” Kara bounces around and sits cross-legged across the box from Alex.

“Yep,” Alex starts pulling them out, “we’ve always brought one for each of us to the synagogue’s party. Mom always picks them out though.” 

As Alex takes out each chanukiah, Kara has to resist the urge to pick them up and look at them. They’re all beautiful, some are ornate and expensive looking, while others are simple and plain. A lot of them still have globs of white or blue wax stuck to the arms and Alex grumbles about being stuck cleaning them again this year.

“Do you like this one?” She holds up one that’s solid, without branches, and instead has a mosaic of different blue tiles, arranged to form a Star of David in the centre of both sides. 

“It’s pretty,” Kara oohs appropriately. 

“It’s one of mom’s favourites. You can take it this year,” Alex nods, setting it down firmly.

“I can?” Kara bites her lip.

“Yeah,” Alex says, looking briefly at Kara with a smile, “mom said one for each of us.”

“Right,” Kara nods, trembling with excitement. 

“You remember how to do it?” Eliza says quietly to Kara. They’re all in the synagogue’s social hall. The rabbi is giving a little speech about miracles and ‘embodying the miracle of light in these times’. Kara can smell the latkes on the other side of the room, but right now, the task at hand is lighting the chanukiah. 

There have to be at least 30 of them, all set up on the party tables lined with aluminium. Jeremiah and Eliza are to Kara’s left and Alex is to her right, closer to her friends who are still trying to get Alex to ditch with them. 

“I got it,” Kara nods, holding the shamash in her right hand. Jeremiah passes his flame to Eliza, who passes it to Kara, and then with trembling fingers, Kara holds the light to the slender white candle on the far right of the chanukiah. 

“That was the easy part,” Alex mutters, for Kara’s super-hearing only. “Blessings are up next.”

But Alex doesn’t get it. For Kara, the blessings are the easy part. She doesn’t have to gentle her voice, slow her words to be more precise. Her body is still a wild card, movements require so much focus, especially the ones that are delicate. Like lighting a candle.

Home. Krypton. It’s suddenly is less of a memory. The light of the chanukiah is almost like the light of Rao; the smells of food and fire and lamp oil; the blessings are ancient calls of gratitude. It’s close, so close it’s almost enough to bridge the gap, to make her forget she’s not home.

With her eyes closed, she can almost hear her mother’s voice at the very edge of the crowd, clear and firm and true.  For a moment, she feels her mother’s hand in hers, warm and alive, comforting. But, when she opens her eyes and looks down, Eliza’s hand is grasping hers. And then Alex reaches out and takes her other hand. 

Kara’s cheeks are wet from tears she had no idea she was crying. The candle lights blur in her vision and the mixed voices of the congregation picking up the final prayer shake her back to reality.

This is her first Chanukah.

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech haolam, shehecheyanu v’kiy’manu v’higiyanu laz’man hazeh.